


still you got me falling deep

by leadbitter



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, literally just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 13:43:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19021129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leadbitter/pseuds/leadbitter
Summary: What if- what if- what if- until his whole brain was filled with Connor, Connor, Connor.or, James gets a tattoo and there are lots of maybes.





	still you got me falling deep

**Author's Note:**

> i love two (2) men xx this has to be one of THE nichest fics i’ve ever wrote n that’s sayin something 
> 
> title is from ice cream - easy life
> 
> disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and not intented to represent or speculate on the real lives of any person, only using their likeness to write a story.

The tattoo parlour, if you could even call it that, was small and sticky and probably not even sterile. It had been on a whim that James had decided to get a tattoo; a drunken, potentially misguided whim, but a whim all the same. This wasn’t the first time James had got pissed up and ended up with something inked into his skin, afterall, isn’t that what foreign holidays are made for?

 

This was, however, the first time it had been of a teammates initials. 

 

The conversation with Connor about having his existence immortalised on the back of James calf was, arguably, not a long enough one. Maybe they should’ve thought it through a bit better, maybe they should’ve thought about the implication. There is a lot of things James and Connor should’ve  _ maybe _ done across the past season, hell, much longer than that. The thing about them however is, they’ve never really been that sensible.

  
  
  
  


The parlour was too small as it was, so having Connor in there as well was one logistical barrier that they couldn’t break this time. Some soft part of James wanted him to be in there with him while he was being tattooed, just to  _ be  _ there. And maybe he’d hold his hand even though they both know James has had bigger tattoos in more painful places. But they could pretend, just for a while, that they needed an excuse to touch each other.

 

So there James was, sat on a faded leather chair, and handing over a sketch of the initials that he and Connor had mocked up, some 20 minutes ago. 

 

“That’s it mate,” James said, as the tattooist (Jordan, the name badge helpfully supplied) looked over the paper with relieved eyes.

 

“Thank  _ fuck  _ for something simple,” Jordan ranted. “I’ve been up to my neck in tigers and eagles and people wanting bloody Liam Gallagher tattooed on their arse.”

 

Sweat glistened off Jordan’s forehead as he pushed curly hair out of the way. James did feel sorry for him, suspecting that the extent of strange tattoos that boozy English people wanted on holiday went even further than that. 

 

“Glad to be of service pal,” James grinned back. For once, he was being one hundred percent genuine.

 

“Yeah well,” He sighed. “I love tattooing, but you don’t half get cramp in your hand.”

 

James nodded, unsure how to respond, and the conversation petered out. The ticking of the old clock in the corner and the murmur of noise outside hung in the air like holidays and suncream, sand between your toes and salt water in your eyes. Pleasant and unpleasant at the same time. God, James really wished Connor was here to take the mick, just to pass the time while the tattooist finished the stencil. 

 

He looked wistfully out of the window onto the street. Connor said he was going to go back to the pool and that James should call him when it’s finished. He’s half tempted just to call him now, the mere sight of Connor enough to turn his stomach into knots in the best way possible. Connor would call him soft if he heard him saying that, but he’d kiss his jaw all the same and tell James that he liked it. 

 

“... James? James?” Jordan’s voice filtered through into James’ train of thought. He turned away from the window.

 

“Sorry, miles away,” He apologised, even though Jordan didn’t seem the type to need apologies.

 

“It’s alright mate. Just checking this is all fine,” and he showed James the stencil. 

 

_ CJ _ in beautiful, swirling cursive. James had a lump in his throat, not appropriate or 1 pm's on holiday. 

 

“Yeah, yeah that’s perfect,” He murmured, but as Jordan pulled it away to dampen, and start the process, “Wait!” 

 

Jordan raised his eyebrows. 

 

“Can you… can you do a heart around it?” James said, a bit shakily. “Just a simple heart, nothing fancy.”

 

Jordan nodded thoughtfully, then chuckled. “Course lad. Someone you love eh?”

 

“Yeah,” James answered vacantly. “Yeah it is.”

  
  
  
  


By the time the tattoos finished, which isn’t very long, James has had time to regret, then unregret, then regret again, adding the heart to the initials. He hadn’t discussed it with Connor, what if Connor didn’t actually want to be commemorated within a love heart? What if Connor loved it? What if Connor hated it? What if- what if- what if- until his whole brain was filled with Connor, Connor, Connor. 

 

The walk back to the resort was a long one, with a mild limp and a weight on his mind. Also he stopped for ice cream. He  _ had  _ to stop when he saw a sign for mint choc chip. He just had to. 

 

By the time he got back, his leg ached more than it should, his fingers were sticky with ice cream, and he  _ still _ hadn’t decided whether The Heart (he’d taken to capitalising the word in his head for emphasis) was a good idea or not. All this could’ve easily been avoided if he’d have called Connor when the tattoo was finished like he promised to. A lift back, no ice cream temptation, and no drawn out worry for what Connor would think. 

 

He went straight up to his and Connor’s room, and collapsed on his bed (unofficially,  _ their _ bed). The heat had knackered him, and for the first time since Saturday night, he didn’t want a drink in his hand. All he wanted was to fall asleep.

  
  
  
  


James can’t have been asleep that long, no more than an hour, because when he woke up to Connor banging around in the bathroom, the sun was shining as hot as ever and the clock on the side table hadn’t ticked past 3. 

 

“Jenno?” James murmured sleepily, still half in a dream state. The clattering sounds stopped, and Connor’s head appeared from around the door frame.

 

James’ heart fluttered at the grin on Connor’ face. “Oh you’re awake! Sorry I didn't wake you earlier but you looked so peaceful,” Connor said, cooing ever so slightly. It was not fair for a 27 year old man to look so sweet.

 

“It’s alright,” James smiled back lazily. “I’m fucking knackered mate.” But he was wide awake now, Connor’s presence being quite a strong incentive to not fall asleep. 

 

Connor pushing away from the doorframe he was leant against and coming to lay next to James was even stronger.

 

James rolled onto his side so he was facing Connor, squinting at the bright light coming through the balcony doors. Connor was already there, meeting his eyes. He had those crinkles at the outer corner of his eyes that indicated an unrivaled happiness. James couldn’t help but trace the lines with his thumb, biting his tongue to stop the cheshire grin that was threatening to break at the sight of Connor shivering under the touch. He loved moments like this, after wins or on quiet evenings or in the off-season, when everything was peaceful and it was just James and Connor, two lads maybe in love. 

 

“So can i see that tattoo then? Seeing how as i'm now part of you forever,” Connor looked far too happy at the prospect. Maybe not too happy. Maybe it was perfect. James barely knew his own name these days.

 

“Yeah,” James whispered, half forgetting about The Heart (and the surrounding meltdown) and half not caring anymore, too wrapped up in Connor next to him, Connor in his bed, Connor’s fingertips ghosting over his hips.

 

James stopped stroking Connor’s cheekbone, eliciting a whine from the other man, and rolled onto his front, head smashed again the pillows. He didn’t bother moving the sheets.

 

The weight of the bed shifted as Connor sat up. He tuts, “Do i have to do everything myself?” 

 

James hid his smile in the pillow. The feel of air on his legs was refreshing after being under a sheet, and James sighed contently. He could hear the sounds of the pool and drinks clinking. It was the most relaxed he’d felt since, well, last summer he supposes. He was so relaxed, he only realised that Connor hadn’t said anything, and that he definitely should’ve by now, until a few minutes later when the silence had become too hard to ignore.

 

He twisted around, ignoring the soreness in his leg, to look up at Connor, resting on his elbows. “Jenno?”

 

Connor looked back at him with a face akin to the mother of a bride on the wedding day, soft as putty and slightly teary. 

 

“Jenno?” James asked again, softer and easier this time, room for more than words. 

 

A sort of strangled noise escaped Connor before he straddled James and pushed him backwards so he was hovering just above him. “I love you,” Connor whispered, and kissed James with a tenderness and similar ferocity that he had come to associate with the younger man. 

 

James entire body melted, hands coming up to frame Connor’s face. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” Connor muttered breathlessly between each kiss, somehow so messy and contained all at once. 

 

James wanted to cry with how safe he felt. He eased one of his hands into Connor’s hair, and gently prised him off, making sure his other hand was caressing his jaw at all times. He was beautiful, like proper ties your stomach in knots kind of gorgeous. 

 

“I love you,” James said, and Connor huffed happily and tried to kiss him again, but James stopped him, frustrated. “Like, I  _ love  _ you. So much.” He said it as sincerely as he’s probably ever said anything in his life.

 

Connor’s eyes widened slightly, like he understood, and he opened his mouth to reply, only to find no words weren’t enough. He swallowed and James’ eyes followed the movement of his adams apple.

 

Instead of talking, Connor slowly planted kisses along James’ jaw, and then his throat, and his chest, his stomach, his hip bones. And when he reached the waistband of his boxers, he looked up at James, already gone and in some sort of catatonic love state, but just conscious enough to moan some sort of  _ yes _ . 

 

James threaded one hand into Connor’s hair once again, and Connor gave one final kiss to his hip bone, before he shimmied down James boxers.

 

The rest, as they say, is history. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> james actually got jenno’s initials tattooed. no im not taking the piss  
> [x](https://twitter.com/jnorwood_10/status/1133730334934261761?s=21)
> 
> also [this](https://tommydavies.tumblr.com/post/185225289949/youre-not-legally-allowed-to-leave-tranmere-now) is so sweet
> 
> again [bless](https://twitter.com/questtv/status/1132400950654713857?s=21)
> 
> i love these men very much 
> 
>  
> 
> xx eve


End file.
